24 hours

As I'm washing dishes the chime on my phone goes off alerting me to a text.  I grab it with wet hands expecting it to be F telling me he'll be late coming home.  Instead it's my friend. "The pediatrician says it's ******. I'm sort of freaking out. Should I be freaking out?"  Before answering I head to Google.  My heart sinks as I read and I too begin to worry.

The pediatrician promises to call my friend the next day with the results of blood work. I think to myself that she is really calling to tell her which fork in the road they will be taking: the one to health or the one to hospitals.  My stomach hurts and I can't take a full breath. I'm embarrassed by my physical response.  I know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing compared to what my friend is feeling. 

I don't sleep that night.  Instead I think about my friend.  We've known each other for almost 20 years.  We have prayed for one another and with one another.  She's held my hand while I was in labor. She's picked me up off the floor when I was too sad to stand. She knows me better than anyone. She is my sister-friend.  She is my heart. 

I think about her precious daughter.  She is wise beyond her years. She loves Jesus with a fierceness that both impresses and intimidates me. She is destined to grow up and change the world.  She has already changed mine.  When my G was a toddler and had a speech impediment she not only understood him, but would act as his translator when they were together.  She was 5.  When the babies were new and I was exhausted I would pass her Laurel.  She would hold the tiny swaddled bundle and whisper girly secrets in her ear. Laurel would gaze up at her perfectly content.  She never comes to visit me empty handed.  She brings me pictures she has colored, rainbow loom treasures, collages. I have them all in a drawer.  She is my heart.   

The next morning I circle the wagons.  I call the people in my life that I know will pray without ceasing.  We fall to our knees and beg for the healthy fork in the road.  Please, please, please...  

Every text makes my heart jump.  I find my eyes filling with tears at random times throughout the day.  I try not to bother my friend at work, but fail miserably.  Have you heard? How are you? Do you need me? I feel helpless.  I want to go to her.  I want to be with her when she gets the news. 

Finally we hear.  She is perfect.  She is healthy.  I burst into tears.  I am simultaneously relieved at all my friend is spared and devastated by what other mothers are forced to face. I have no words.

Decisions

Several kids were gathered around the kitchen table making Valentines.  Some were scribbling happily on pink construction paper while others were carefully copying their friends names onto bags of candy.  There were talks of preferring Skittles to Fun Dip and discussions about the sayings on conversation hearts. If you didn't look closely you'd think the whole group was having a great time!

When I was done washing dishes I headed to the table and sat next to my four year old.  His back had been to me while I was busy at the sink so I hadn't noticed his furrowed brow nor the scowl where his usually impish smile was. 

"Uh oh, you don't look like you're having fun!"

"I'm not! I'm not doing this anymore"

"Why? You liked these Valentines when we picked them out. You were excited about your party. What happened?"

"I can't write my name. I'm not doing this"

The little guy slams his marker down and burrows his head into his arms.  It's then that I notice the red indentions on his finger and the pile of crumpled cards next to him.  My breath catches and my stomach begins to hurt.  This sweet boy has been working so hard in occupational therapy to learn to write. Just that day his teacher commented that he had been doing a great job and she could see his progress.  I felt awful that I'd let what was supposed to be a fun activity dampen whatever confidence he'd gained.

My first instinct was to take the marker and write his name for him: smooth the edges and save the evening. While that might be a quick fix I knew that in the long run he'd be better off if I helped him figure out a way to do this himself.  After some pre-valentines candy we worked together on finishing his cards.  We settle on writing just "Oli" and when even that gets tiresome we work on writing "O".  It's an arduous task and he works even after his siblings have grown bored and moved on to the TV in the playroom.  I tell him I admire his commitment to finishing the cards and that I know his friends will love them.  I find myself biting back tears more than once as I watch him work.

Over the next several days I find myself worrying over what the future holds for Oliver.  As a former teacher I am all too familiar with demands elementary school now makes on it's youngest students.  It's a challenging day for even the most prepared child.  The thought of thrusting my most sensitive boy into an environment that I know will push him beyond his limits is heartbreaking.  I want him to be three again where our days were full of playscapes and side walk chalk.  I want more time. 

I think and think and think.  I read and read and read.  I know I'm missing something.  Many parts of school don't come easily for Oli.  He has worked hard for every skill he has mastered.  His struggle is my struggle.  I know I need a new perspective so I call on my village.  I have long, hard conversations with moms and teachers I love and respect.  We hash out our options and I shed many tears.  Two things remain constant: we all love Oliver and I am blessed with a community of women that I can count on.  We are going to be ok.

No matter what F and I decide for Oliver the choice will be a leap of faith.  We are going to have to trust that the process will unfold as it's supposed to: support will find us, the words will come, and Oliver will be happy throughout.

"Don't bury in doubt what you planted in faith."

On My Mind: Random

Lately I have really been feeling the extremes of having five children.  When things are running smoothly it is amazing!   The house is full of laughter, messes are manageable, and I am able to go with the flow.  BUT, then there are months like this one.  The babies have been sick for what seems like weeks, Frank is working late most nights, and each big kid has had their own issue that has seemed extra needy.  It's during these times that the noise in the house seems unbearable and I find myself saying "Go play outside" way more than I normally would.  I notice that I'm constantly straightening and organizing, and any variation from our routine irritates me. I just can't relax and sink into the moment like I normally do. I am thankful for the ebb and flow of life as I know that this time will pass and things will calm down again. 

I've been really thinking about is this blog.  When I started this I intended for it to be a record of our family.  I thought I'd show off pictures and record what we did each month.  Without realizing it I'd slowly stopped making those type of posts (I think because I'm so active on Facebook). Instead, I'd started posting about how I was feeling about our family structure and the changes that were happening within it as my kids grew.  I love writing about my family.  It's a good outlet for me and it forces me to get to the root of whatever issue I'm being challenged with.  What I'm struggling with is how this affects my Bigs.  They have reached the age where they need privacy.  Their stories aren't mine to tell anymore. I'm still thinking and reading other blogs to get ideas. To be continued...

Little vs. Big

When I was in college I had an amazing professor named Dr. Sludor.  She taught several educational foundation courses which everyone had to take before they started their specialization classes. Sometimes a lecture would take a turn towards a particular specialty she would call out "Listen up little kid people!" or "Pay attention to this big kid people!". I knew I wanted to specialize in early childhood education so I always sat up a little straighter when I heard her mention my peeps.  I was proud to be a Little Kid Person!

My preference for working with young children stayed with me all throughout my career.  I taught preschool, kindergarten and first grade.  I once had a principal tell me that my assignment the following year would be second grade and I about had a heart attack.  "SECOND GRADE?!? But they're BIG!" When I started having my babies I had no qualms about caring for them.  I was confident I was meeting their needs and was enjoying every moment of it.

I had a really hard time when Will turned 7.  All of a sudden he didn't want to be called Willy and he wanted a Nintendo DS instead of a Leapster. He started closing the door when he got dressed and he had friends that I didn't know.  All of those things are natural milestones (well, not the DS) but knowing that didn't make them sting any less.  It was an awkward year full of pushing and pulling by both of us. I wanted Will to grow up and be independent, but I wasn't sure how to deal with a 11 year old.  I was so good with babies and toddlers, but what about tweens and teens? Just thinking about it made my anxiety go crazy.

Throughout all of this the constant joy for both of us was reading.  Will had become a voracious reader.  He was reading books meant for much older kids than 7 and was desperate to talk about them.  We spent many hours laughing and talking about characters and plots.  We scoured Barnes and Noble looking for the next book in our favorite series and jumped with excitement when a long awaited release date finally arrived.  One afternoon after a particularly good conversation it dawned on me that I was really enjoying Will as a person.  I liked his point of view and looked forward to our conversations.  It was different than when he was a toddler and snuggled in my lap to read books, and I had to admit that I enjoyed it so much more! 

Fast forward to now and Will is almost 10.  We still have the best book talks, but now Grant, who is 8, joins us. My relationship with them is rich and full of laughter. Every day they amaze me with an observation or an odd fact and I get a little glimpse of the men they are growing into.  I've learned that during this stage of parenting I will never have the confidence I had while raising them as babies and toddlers.  The saying "The bigger the kid the bigger the problem" is most definitely true. I've had to commit myself to learning as I go. I can't anticipate and prevent issues with them like I could when they were younger. There are just too many unknowns and outside influences.

I could have never anticipated the amount of joy these big kids would bring me. Any uneasiness I have about our next journey (the tween years!!!) diminishes when I think about how much I worried about the stage I'm currently enjoying. Who knew that I'd be just as proud to be a "Big Kid Person"?  

Reflection

I should not be allowed to blog when sleep deprived.  I apologize for my very Faulkner-like stream of consciousness rambling last blog post.  While it was very honest and straight from my heart it was an absolute disaster to read.  I have been feeling very unsettled lately (I know you're totally surprised) and last week I just sort of threw up on my computer and hit publish.  Thanks for sticking with me and for offering sweet words of support. 

Back to this fall.  I've been in a weird place and my first instinct was to place  the blame outside our home. I felt pulled in too many directions and that my children were suffering because of it. You saw that ugliness in my last blog post.   Knowing she had been in my situation I talked to my sweet SIL and took her advice. I thought about our family's priorities and values and made a list of what I wanted for us. I truly thought this was going to lead us to homeschooling. So many of my frustrations come from drop offs, pick ups, homework, practice times, meetings, therapy times, etc., etc.  In my mind eliminating the hustle and bustle of school and tailoring a curriculum to our needs/wants would simplify things.  I was surprised to find that the thought of pulling our bigs out of school broke my heart.  I love our school.  I love the relationships we have with the teachers.  I love crossing my fingers every August hoping we get our beloved favorite for that particular grade level. I love that we have to wipe tears away in May when we say goodbye.  I love our custodian, Ms. Doris, who went thru the twins pregnancy with me.  The babies know her and get big smiles when they see her in the halls.  I appreciate the rigor of the curriculum, and while I complain that I need to visit youtube to help with homework, I'm proud that my bigs rise to the challenge.  I love serving on the PTA board.  I know that debating fundraisers isn't curing cancer, but it makes me happy. Ok, no changes to school then.   I also looked at the extra curricular activities the bigs are involved in.  They each have one activity.  G takes guitar lessons out of our home and W is in cub scouts (F even takes him to the meetings).  No changes to be made there either. 

At this point I'd just resigned myself to having to learn to feel satisfied with the status-quo.  I needed to work on getting more sleep and more "me" time, but life with five kids was never going to be calm or simple.  Then God spoke.  Loudly.  Bluntly.  I love it when He does that. In my devotional yesterday:

"I will hold myself to a standard of Grace and not perfection."

One of the happiest times of my life was when the twins were brand new.  It didn't matter that I had very little help and that I had to balance 3 other young children. I was so focused on my family that everything else fell to the wayside. It was the first time in my life that I wasn't holding myself to the ridiculously high standards I usually set.  My job was to nurse the twins, play with Oliver, and be with W and G when they got home from school. If I failed at anything else it was no problem because I had the built in excuse of new twins.  Beds not made? New twins  Cereal for dinner? New twins  Dirty floor? New twins  O's watching too much TV? New twins  There was no pressure only happiness and a feeling of contentment.  I showed myself grace because I knew I was doing the very best I could do.

Why is it so important that all the beds be made before I leave the house every morning? Why does my calendar have to be color coded? Why does every toy have to be put away before naptime and before bedtime? Why am I so disappointed in myself if I don't do these things? Where did the grace go? 

I have a very nurturing spirit and love to mother.  Frank jokes that my maternal instinct is too developed. I wish I could somehow shift some of that nurturing and mothering to myself. There just isn't room in my life for the frantic, hectic, guilty energy that comes from perfectionism.  This was also in my devotional yesterday:

"When we take the time to really be thankful for the lives that we lead, that recognition of our blessings will eat up the space we would normally fill with noticing what we don't have or what we're not." emphasis mine

I once read that thankfulness is an art form.  I believe that.  I know that the absolute gratefulness I felt when my babies were finally home from the NICU and thriving is very different than the thankfulness I feel today.  I want to get back to the selfless praise that leads to grace.

Is it even possible?

This fall has been really hard.  I've been struggling to balance all the kids' different needs and am ashamed to admit that I think I'm failing.  There are days where the only one on one time my kids get with me is homework help and diaper changes.  O doesn't need either one of those so I guess he's out of luck.  There have been afternoons where the twins have spent multiple hours in their car seats as I run from pre school pick up to elementary school pick up to occupational therapy. People reassure me that the twins won't remember and that I'm doing the best I can, but I'll remember and I know they deserve better than to sit in the car for 3 hours twice a week.  

I recently saw the hashtag "collect memories".  It seriously brought tears to my eyes.  I started this blog as an attempt to do just that.  Collect precious tidbits, pictures, and my impressions of this time. I know I can't get it back.  I just can't seem to find the time to post.

I'm sacrificing sleep for time alone.  Instead of getting the sleep I NEED to function I'm staying awake reading so the introvert side of me gets the quiet space I NEED to function. I can't win.

I crave simplicity.  I need it to be my happiest.  My calendar does not look simple.  It looks full. This does not make me my happiest.

All of this to say that I need to figure out how simplicity looks with five kids.  Is that even possible?  We seemed to be in such a good place last year and now everything seems so hectic.  I'm not sure what changed, but I'm going to spend this weekend thinking about how to get back there. 

Happy Birthday!

I turned the big 4-0 last month.  It's taken me this long to post about it because It really threw me for a loop.  40 has always been my age. The "you're officially middle age the best is over what do I have to look forward to if you say grand kids I'll cry" age.  After my birthday I did some thinking, started my anti aging skin care regime, and settled into my new decade.

Being at this point in my life means I've learned a few little things:

1) I will never ever look good in skinny jeans.  
2) Never leave home without a book.  
3) Hard boiled eggs make your fridge smell like feet. 

I've also learned a few big things.  These are the hard won lessons that came from God and usually with many tears.  

1) As my good friend Sabrina says "It doesn't cost anything to be kind". For many years I thought that kindness and strength were mutually exclusive.  That the delivery of my message wasn't near as important as my message.  That's simply not true.  I've never once regretted softening my words and usually find that I get a better response/result if I come from a place of kindness.  We all deserve kindness and grace and I do my best to approach others from this point of view. 

2) Silence is OK.  My former boss and friend, Julie, taught me that gaps in conversation don't always need to be filled. I've found that if I can get through the uncomfortable tension that what follows is usually profound and gets to the heart of whatever we're discussing.  This has served me well in my marriage and in my relationship with my oldest son.

3) Most everything in life is gray.  There is always a "but what about...?" even if it's not being said.  Reducing everything down to a 'right or wrong 'point of view shuts down growth and makes it impossible to be anything other than judgmental.

4) I need God.  I cannot do this life on my own. When I try I fail. If I look back on the times I really struggled it wasn't necessarily when something awful had happened but was when I was furthest from Him. These times were full of unease and anxiety.  I felt like something was missing and I couldn't stop moving.  Things would fall back into place once I adjusted my focus. Whenever I start feeling antsy I know I need to spend some time in prayer. 

5) Women need women.  My husband lost his sweet stepfather early in our marriage.  After Joe's death we picked up his mom from the airport and drove her two hours home. She held it together the entire ride but fell apart as soon as she saw the friends who were waiting for her.  She knew they understood and she felt safe.  She could just be.  It would be several years later before I could really understand the depth of that kind of friendship.  My girlfriends and I have supported each other through the birth of children, the ups and downs of marriage, chronic and painful illnesses, and the struggle of keeping it together for our families.  Our spirits understand and soothe each other with a depth that truly can only be a blessing from God. I'm so thankful that Laurel will grow up seeing these relationships. 


Here's to always learning and to being on the better side of The Hill!